In Between
by hayffietrash
Summary: A series of stories inspired by Crowen from Grey's Anatomy. This is not a re-write of Crowen scenes with Hayffie's names. They are stories inspired from those scenes so you do not have to have watched Grey's to understand what is happening. Enjoy! xxx
1. Meaningless quarrels and wasted nights

He couldn't remember how they got there. Her storming out of the room and his whiskey glass shattered beside him. It had to do with her pestering him about the sponsors _again_. He ignored her as usual. And she continued mumbling about the kids and things he didn't bother listening. At one point he stood up to refill his glass and finally took in her entire outfit. She was all dressed up to head out. A party he presumed. Then her phone rang.

Finally some peace for his ears. _He thought._

Then he heard it. It was Seneca. And a wave of - _whatever_ \- rose up within him. And all was history. He called her names. She said some nasty stuff and he threw them back at her. It was bad. It was a very bad fight and considering the amount of quarrels they have on a daily basis. _That_ is saying something.

* * *

After she left, he went back to his room with his drink. Now, he was lying here in his bed thinking about how everything went to hell that evening. The residual anger was still radiating off his body. Too hot to be in the covers. It has got to be almost two in the morning now and he heard her come in about an hour ago.

Nights like this, he would be in her room doing what they usually do. He didn't know what got into him earlier. What they had was just sex. So why was he so fed up about her seeing Seneca. But the idea of her with another guy just repelled him so much that he could barely stomach the thought. They never defined their relationship, but he had thought that they were exclusive.

 _Another drink. That will do._

* * *

He just got back into bed with he heard his door open. With his hand on his knife, he looked over. With all the nights they have spent together, he could make out that it was her even with her silhouette. He threw his knife under the bedside table and waited.

She was drunk that much he could make out. She stumbled into his room barefooted, feeling her way with her arms.

She slid into his bed, climbing on top of him. Her small frame barely covered his. Her wig was gone, her eyes hazy, her face looked bare and she was wearing her pyjamas. Gone was her usual warm and musky scent, he could smell the mixture of cocktails and alcohols on her. Definitely drunk.

"You are drunk." He frowned.

"Mm…" She snuggled closer and buried her head in his chest.

"You okay?" He asked. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked down to see her soft blonde hair covering her face and a pang of guilt hit him.

She mumbled something against his chest and looked up at him with her intoxicated eyes.

They stayed there staring at each other for a few moments before she untangled herself and sat up on the edge of his bed.

She sat there with her eyes closed for a while before standing up and leaving the room.

He laid there on his bed, thinking until the sleep consumed him at the crack of dawn.

* * *

The next afternoon when he finally got up for lunch she barely looked at him. She probably didn't remember what happened last night.

It was two days later when he overheard a conversation at a party that he knew that she broke up with Crane.

That night it was him who slid into her room, drunk, covering her body with his own and lying there till the next morning.


	2. Living in the After

I am fulfilling my urge to write a Crowen fanfic here. Because even though I love Crowen, I just can't find the inspiration to write a decent fanfic. So I am doing a Grey's or rather Crowen-inspired AU for Hayffie. This is not a multichap fic. Probably gonna be a series of short fics inspired by Crowen.

* * *

She slowly approached him from behind as she watched him make his way back home with two bottles in his hands. He was swaying so much that she was surprised he hasn't tripped over his own foot yet. And then he almost did when she caught up to him and held him up.

"Hey are you okay?" The phrase bringing up a memory she held dearly. A memory of a boy, the same boy she was trying her best to hold up right now. She haven't had the courage to approach him until now.

 _Every day since he got back, she would knock on his door, hoping he would open it. It has been days of her sneaking into the Victor's Village after school and he still hasn't responded. Until this morning. She knocked and waited with no avail. She sat outside on his porch as always, waiting. About ten minutes later, she heard the door click and out stumbled Haymitch. He reeked of alcohol, his hair messy and dirty, his clothes looked like they should have been washed a week ago. She stood up immediately half expecting him to acknowledge her, instead he walked past her and headed straight out. She followed him quietly as he made his way to the Hob._

Which brings her back here with her holding him up with all her strength.

"I am fine. Thank you -" He stared at her for a moment, almost looking like he was trying to place a name to her face or maybe he was just waiting for her to finish the sentence for him.

"Euphemia." She said.

"Ah, thank you Effie." He replied half-heartedly before pulling her hands off him and continued walking.

"My name is Euphemia. Eu-phe-mia!" She exclaimed, enunciating every syllable. Angered bubbled within her. _After days of ignorance and he forgot her name?! How dare he!_

"Effie?!" She almost screamed as he continued walking as if nothing happened.

"What? Sweetheart, my name is Haymitch." He turned to look at her.

"Seriously, you really don't remember me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at the people walking past them and brought her gaze back to him.

His eyes softened for a moment before he pulled her away into a less crowded corner and said, "I remember you. But that was before… When I was there…" He paused.

"When I was in there, there were 48 of us and 47 died. I fought to be alive. I watched people die in my hands. I came back and my family is gone. And now I am here." His breathing getting heavier as he explained. "I am not there anymore. Before, I was the guy who help bandage your knee after you fell. And I knew you in the before. I knew your name in the before. Now, I am living in the after." He gave her another glance over before walking away.

* * *

It was a kiss she wouldn't forget. He was there, in the flesh, right in front of her. She had been dreaming of meeting him since the day she saw him walking past her parents' store for the first time. He was different and she knew it. She watched him walk past the store every day, some days alone, some days with his younger brother, some days with his parents. She watch him grow up through the glass windows of her parents' fabric store and she grew up along with him.

They went to different schools so they never met. Her parents were very strict so she never got a chance to mingle with other kids from different social circles. But all her friends knew about the boy on the other side of the window from the doodles on her books. She dreamt of their first encounters countless of times, but she never imagined it would be like this.

 _She was making her way down to the square with her parents when she tripped. A small gash on her knee, leaving a trail of blood down her leg. That was when his face came into view, rendering her speechless._

 _"Hey are you okay?" He asked._

 _"Erm… yeah." She stuttered._

 _"You are bleeding."_

 _"I fell." She said slightly embarrassed._

 _"Yeah, I saw that." He smirked as he took out a handkerchief and started bandaging her knee._

 _"Thank you." She said shyly._

 _"My mum gave me this handkerchief for good luck you know? But I guess you need it more than me now."_

 _"Sorry, I will return it when I get a chance to."_

 _"We shall see if you get the chance to after today." He replied as he pulled her up to her feet._

 _"Bye." He said as he walked off with his brother. Leaving her once again speechless as she looked at them walking away. In that moment she realised she still didn't know his name._

 _She stood quietly amongst the crowd. Shaking. Almost everyone was. There was something different about the air. Still. Dreadful. This was her first Reaping - a Quarter Quell. She always imagined how it was like to have your life determined by someone's hand in a bowl filled with paper slips. You would imagine the odds to be quite in your favour when the piece of paper with your name on it is surrounded by hundreds of others. Names of people who were standing around you right now. The girl beside you could be picked next. Or your sitting buddy in school. Or the girl who always came in with her mother to the store._

 _Since she could remember, she never knew anyone who was reaped in the previous years. This year four names were going to be picked. Deep breaths Euphemia. Shutting her eyes as the lady on the stage started picking the names of this year's tributes. It was so silent that you could hear the sharp intakes of breaths as the first name was announced. She was somebody's somebody. A friend, a sister, a daughter. The announcer called out the name again and a series of shuffling followed. Steps that sounded louder than ever and she saw a little girl walk up the stage. She couldn't be much older than herself._

 _This repeated twice until they got to the last name. A little shuffling and she saw a familiar face come into view. The guy on the other side of the window. The same guy whose lucky handkerchief was now on her knee. Haymitch Abernathy. That is his name. She got to get the handkerchief back to him. Oh my god. She took it away from him and now he was going into the games._

 _She made it into the room when his mother saw that she had his handkerchief. She barely had time to take it off and clean it slightly before she was in the room alone with him._

 _"I am sorry." She said with tears in her eyes._

 _"It is not your fault." He sighed._

 _"I took your lucky handkerchief." She wiped her tears with her hand. "I never knew your name till today. I watched you pass by our store every day."_

 _"Yeah it sucks. There is nothing we can do now. But maybe I can win this." He placed a hand on her shoulder and pulling her into an awkward hug. "Thank you for returning the handkerchief. And I still don't know your name."_

 _"Euphemia. Euphemia Trinket." She replied. "You can win this." Leaving a peck on his cheek before she left the room._

* * *

He set one bottle of alcohol down on his coffee table and opened the other. Alcohol. Another thing he discovered while living in the after.

 _It was the first day of the Victory Tour. The touching and flirting was nothing new but the drinks they kept shoving in his face. He politely rejected the first few until some guy with blue hair basically shoved a straw in his mouth. He took a little sip. It tasted disgusting, it burned his throat. It tasted like soap and whatever fruit that was inside the drink. Then came another then another and another. Before he knew it, he felt a little dizzy and he body felt hot. He took off his jacket despite the little voice in his mind saying not to because his escort specifically ordered him not to mess with his outfit. In the midst of all this, he didn't realize that he forgot the pain. But in that moment it just felt surprisingly good._

 _The next morning he woke up in his room with a splitting headache with no memory of what went down the previous night. He remember laughing and doing something stupid and nothing else. That was when he realized what alcohol could do. It helped him forget the horrors of what happened in the arena. The blood, the screams and the faces he can never forget. So every night, he would willingly put on a suit and enjoy the party. He took every drink people offered until he would pass out because he just couldn't deal with the nightmares anymore._

 _You would think the difficult part was over since he got out alive. But every night, in his room, he relived it over and over and over again. He was a living reminder to himself of everything that transcended in the arena. Every time he closed his eyes, he could smell the blood, he could feel the knife in his hand, he could hear the screams. And alcohol helped him forget._

He touched the dirty handkerchief that was abandoned in the corner of his couch. And the side of his cheek where she kissed him. The little reminders of what it was like in the before. He took a large swig of alcohol from his bottle and tried to forget that he was living in the after.


End file.
